


Let it rain on me

by Princess_Kurenai



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28177971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Kurenai/pseuds/Princess_Kurenai
Summary: The road towards the Duchy of Fraldarius was long, and as much as Sylvain wanted to make that journey as short as possible, the storm that had caught them in the middle of their journey seemed to think otherwise.Not that the storm wasn't announced by dark clouds and distant thunder, but Sylvain had seriously hoped that he could get to the nearest village with his clothes still dry.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Sylvix Gift Exchange 2020





	Let it rain on me

**Author's Note:**

> **Rating:** SAFE  
>  **Wordcount:** 5000  
>  **Warning:** Post Time Skip, Fluff, Referenced Past Child Abuse   
> **Notes:**  
>  \- For Ash! I hope u like it! I admit that I had a lot of fun, because you practically have very similar tastes to mine, and for me it was a pleasure to write this fic! Happy Xmas!!  
> \- Set after the timeskip, and also after their A+ support!  
> \- English is not my language ç_ç but I'm trying to improve myself!  
> \- And I will thank Samarium again and again for reading and correcting the fic! TYSM! They have given me a lot of great advice! So if the fic looks prettier than it is, it's because of them!

The road towards the Duchy of Fraldarius was long, and as much as Sylvain wanted to make that journey as short as possible, the storm that had caught them in the middle of their journey seemed to think otherwise.

Not that the storm wasn't announced by dark clouds and distant thunder, but Sylvain had seriously hoped that he could get to the nearest village with his clothes still dry. 

Unfortunately it hadn’t been so, and he and his traveling companion, Felix, reached their destination wet from head to toe.

As expected, that bad weather made the dirt and muddy streets of the village completely deserted, and it was only when they reached an inn called  _ "The Rusty Ruth" _ that they began to see the first signs of life. There seemed to be singing and noises inside the tavern, and despite the cold, Sylvain couldn't help but smile at hearing the cheerful noise overtaking the rain’s clamor.

He had always had a soft spot for taverns like these, which represented a sort of refuge not only for travelers who stayed there at night, but also for the villagers themselves who gathered in those places to have fun, discover the stories of the adventurers, and get some relief from long working days.

With that newly found good mood he glanced at Felix who, of course, didn’t seem to share the thought. His best friend didn’t particularly like worldliness, and the grim expression on his face, half hidden by his hood, did nothing but confirm what Sylvain already knew.

“Let's leave the horses in the stable!” he exclaimed, trying to make himself heard by his friend too, who nodded in agreement.

They moved a few meters, reaching the stable already occupied by other horses, a little restless because of the storm. Only then did Sylvain carefully dismount from the back of his mount, leading her to a stall with hay.

He paused beside her for a few moments, stroking her neck with his gloved hand. “You deserve some rest too, Rosie” he murmured fondly, keeping a low and warm tone addressed exclusively to his horse.

After making sure that Rosie was safe, and above all fed, Sylvain turned to Felix who, in turn, had taken care of his mount. Not that he expected some kind of comment from his best friend, but at least he had hoped to spend a pleasant trip with him since, after the Duchy of Fraldarius, their destination was the Margraviate of Gautier, and certainly that didn't fill Sylvain with joy.

He would have gladly avoided going home, at least until the end of the war, but the continuing bandit attacks from the Sreng were putting a strain on the battalion that remained in his father's service and it was necessary to make sure that, for a while, those raids ceased. And for that reason, Felix was there with him. Dimitri and the Professor had suggested that they recover some battalions from the Duchy, which would go to replenish the ranks of the Margraviate. They were fighting a war, and to win it they couldn't afford to weaken their own allies.

The plan was excellent and Sylvain totally shared it; too bad Felix didn't leave the Monastery in the right mood. It was nothing new - Felix certainly wasn’t one for joviality - but Sylvain felt there was something more that eluded him.

However, he tried to ignore that impression, which was perhaps more a  _ ‘certainty’  _ than a  _ ‘suspicion’ _ , in order to blame that storm and the war that was exhausting everyone.

“What bad luck, huh?” he commented. “But at least now we're sheltered from the rain.”

Felix nodded again and his white teeth went to torture his lower lip, battered not only by the cold but also his teeth. He always did this when something troubled him, and that confirmed all of Sylvain's doubts.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” Felix snapped in response, turning away to walk towards the stable’s exit with his travel bag in one hand. “I just need dry clothes and sleep.”

It was a lie, one Sylvain knew well, but he decided to let it go for the moment. After all, he too was tired and his clothes were so wet that they weighed almost more than the armor. He retrieved his bag and quickly reached Felix who had preceded him inside the inn.

The heat of the lit fireplace, the smell of beer and the noises inside the room hit him in full, making him smile again. If only he had been alone - or five years younger, without the war to push him to reconsider his priorities - he would have gladly taken a pint of beer so he could have fun with those peasants and travelers, who almost seemed to want to fight the storm with their songs.

At that moment he was with Felix, though, and he knew how much his friend hated those _ 'worldly events' _ . No less important, he and his partner were literally shaking from the cold, even though Felix was clearly trying to hide it. They badly needed to change their clothes and warm up.

Sylvain took a few steps towards the counter, on which he leaned with one of his best smiles. If there was even a small chance of getting a little favor, Sylvain was ready to take it.  _ He was like that, he couldn't help it. _

“I never expected to meet such beauty on a night so cold,” he began, drawing the gaze of the young woman working at the counter. She was beautiful with her mahogany hair and her brown eyes; in the past he would have jumped through hoops to get her attention, but for some time now he had stopped running after every girl, and the reason was right there behind him.

The war had forced him to reconsider his priorities, but Felix had been the person who had pushed him towards a different awareness of himself and what he wanted from the future. A future far from his father's wishes.

Once again, Sylvain forced himself to put those thoughts aside so that he could resume speaking affably with the young woman. “My friend and I are exhausted and, unfortunately, also soaking wet,” he added to give more weight to his request. “And it would be fantastic to be able to rent two rooms with fireplaces.”

“We have only one room,” answered the woman, unimpressed by Sylvain and his charm; most likely used to the courtship attempts of her clients. However Sylvain didn’t lose his smile, immediately trying a new approach.

“And are you sure you can't do anything?”

  
“We only have one room available in the entire inn. Take it or leave it. Otherwise… there is always the stable,” concluded the innkeeper, determined and without a second thought in her voice.

Felix grunted behind Sylvain and, although he was now shaking all over, he started to walk towards the exit of the inn, muttering a: “Perfect. I will sleep in the stable.”

Sylvain, a little hurt by that statement, was quick enough to be able to stop his friend by taking him by the arm. He would have to wait to be alone with him to ask what his problem was, so he turned back to the innkeeper. “The room has a fireplace?”

“Yes.”

“We have a deal, but breakfast is on the house,” he declared quickly, without losing his gentle smile. Sylvain would never give up on that room - not with this storm that showed no sign of dispersing - but at least he wanted to take a small victory.

The young woman wrinkled her nose then nodded. Perhaps the idea of offering breakfast seemed more acceptable to her than losing two customers, and in that Sylvain couldn’t help but find a certain resemblance to Anna, the merchant who occasionally showed up at Garreg Mach.

“You have my gratitude,” he replied affably, leaving a bag of gold coins on the counter and finally reaching out his hand to collect the room key.

Felix remained quiet, the chill of his wet clothes - now sticking to his skin - probably dampening his bad mood at least a little, and Sylvain couldn’t help but feel vaguely grateful for that.

He loved Felix, more than he was allowed, but sometimes his best friend was too...  _ Felix _ . It wasn't easy to deal with him, especially when he was in a mood like in the last few days. With the keys clutched in one hand, and with the other still closed around his friend's arm, he walked towards the wooden stairs that would lead them to their room.

Only when they were in front of the door - the number corresponded to that of the key - Sylvain freed Felix from his grasp, as if only at that moment he was certain the other wasn’t going to try to escape to the stables.

“Felix… are you sure everything’s fine?”, he asked, without hiding a hint of concern.

“I said I'm tired,” snapped Felix.

“Are you  _ really  _ sure?” Sylvain insisted, not yet ready to let the matter go. “You know that you can talk to me about everything, right?”

“Everything is fine.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes at the dry reply. It was a lie, he was sure, but he decided to let it go once more. He knew Felix, and insisting didn't always work with him; finding the right moment was far more important.

“If you say so,” he sighed sadly, opening the door to the room he’d rented.

He immediately cast a critical look at the room, lit by a candlestick placed on the bedside table. The fireplace was on one side of the room. It wasn’t lit, but with a little magic Sylvain could probably light it without much difficulty.

The room wasn't large but it felt comfortable and, last but not least, it didn't smell. He could clearly smell the rain, still beating furiously against the walls and roof, but he could not smell the musty stench that one might expect from a small village inn.

The only problem was the bed. The room was a single, so expecting two beds or a bigger one would have been naive, but if Sylvain saw no problem sharing a bed with Felix, he was equally certain that Felix would never be of the same opinion.

He closed the door behind him and sighed loudly, forcing himself to show off a quiet, friendly smile. “At least we're no longer in the rain,” he commented, moving calmly towards the fireplace.

He left his duffel bag on the ground and knelt in front of the hearth, arranging the wood so he could cast the weakest Fire spell he knew - he certainly didn't want to destroy their only refuge.

The light produced by those newborn flames was added to that of the candlestick. There wasn't much else to see in the room, Sylvain noticed as he looked around. Beyond the bed and the nightstand, there was in fact only a set of drawers, attached to the wall next to the door.

Not that they needed anything else, they were just there to spend the night dry. “Tomorrow morning we will leave early for the Duchy, immediately after breakfast,” he resumed a few moments later, breaking again the silence Felix created. He was used to filling the other's long silences, and even if his friend seemed - indeed,  _ he was _ \- in a bad mood, he would work as always to keep the atmosphere as light as possible.

“We can sleep back to back,” he went on casually. “The bed is small, but I'm sure it won't be a problem if we stay in that position.”

“I'm not going to sleep with you.”

Honestly, Sylvain expected a similar response, but certainly not that tone. Felix said those words with such determination that they were almost sharp.

“How? And... where do you intend to sleep?” he asked, sincerely confused.

“Not with you,” retorted Felix.

Those three words left Sylvain even more confused and hurt. It was a refusal, not only towards that situation, which could be really uncomfortable, but also towards him. And it hurt.  _ Really bad. _

“Fe… come on, don’t be stupid,” he murmured, trying to reason with him.

“No,” snapped Felix, tying his hair back into a low ponytail. He was adamant, and it seemed that Felix didn't even want to discuss that subject, but it was really incomprehensible to Sylvain. It was  _ just a bed _ , he wasn't offering him anything indecent.

“Does it really bother you that much to share a bed with me?” asked Sylvain, suddenly becoming more serious.

On another occasion he would also have joked and reminded him of all those times they slept together as children, but not now. He had put off this talk too long, because Felix had been acting strange towards him for days, and Sylvain just couldn't understand what was going through his friend's head.

He had tried to behave in a moderate and gentle way, without giving any real weight to the grumpy attitude of the other, but even he had a limit.

“I prefer to sleep on the floor,” declared Felix in response, looking away, while with nervous movements he went to take off his wet clothes.

His hands were clearly numb from the cold, but stubbornly he continued with his work without even attempting to approach the lit fireplace.

“Why don't you get closer to the fireplace to warm you up a bit?” suggested Sylvain, trying to ignore the nagging pain in his chest.

“I’m fine,” Felix cut him short, managing to take off his wet clothes. He arranged them on the chest of drawers to dry and pulled a light-colored cotton shirt out of his travel bag which he put on without adding another word.

Sylvain was initially silent, but when he saw his friend sitting on the floor, with his back to the wall of the room, he felt himself almost ready to explode. Felix hadn't given him any explanation, nothing at all. Only the harsh judgment of total closure and distance. That attitude was as strange as unbearable.

“Oh come on! What have I done? Are you angry with me?” he exclaimed in exasperation. He didn’t receive an answer. Sylvain opened and closed his mouth several times, looking for the right words, but in the end he decided to let it go, even if it cost him a lot.

Felix was stubborn and, above all, in a bad mood. Trying to dissuade him or get him an explanation would be counterproductive and Sylvain honestly felt he had done nothing to deserve that treatment.

Sylvain had behaved flawlessly in the last month, he moved past dating and he even started training regularly with Felix. He had done everything possible but it seemed not to be enough.

“All right!” he snapped, spreading his arms in surrender. “Do whatever you like. I'll sleep on the bed, you stay on the floor. Nobody forces you!”

He began to take off his armor with annoyed gestures, turning his back on Felix so he doesn't have to look at him again. Because Sylvain knew that, somehow, he would give up and try to reason with him or worse:  _ he would apologize for something he hadn’t done. _

Sylvain left his armor on the ground and also took off his tunic, too wet to give him a comfortable rest. Shivering from being bare-chested, he took a dark cotton tunic from his travel bag, which hugged him almost comfortably as he put it on. A few moments later, he stretched out on the bed, aiming his gaze towards the wooden ceiling of the room.

He held that silent position for a few minutes before turning to the bedside table where the candlestick stood. Sylvain hesitated and- after glancing at Felix, who remained motionless in his position with his knees drawn to his chest and the sword resting on his shoulder - decided to blow out the candles, leaving only the light of the fire to illuminate the room.

That silence, broken only by the noises outside the room and by the crackling of wood eaten by the flames, it didn't last long. Sylvain was painfully aware that he wasn’t really able to mind his own business, because Felix was important to him, and he couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him there on the cold floor.

“Fe…” he murmured, trying to draw the other's attention to himself. He waited for a while, waiting for an answer that didn't come, then he spoke again without giving up. “Don't tell me you're already asleep,” he added, smiling when Felix finally decided to answer.

“If you keep talking, I certainly won't sleep,” he grumbled.

“I know, sorry,” he chuckled. “I was thinking… do you remember that time I ended up in the well?”

It was a weird question, completely unrelated to that situation, but Sylvan only had that to try to relieve the tension. He just wanted to make Felix think about something else, make him relax and maybe even make him smile. Maybe that way he would be able to get an explanation for his absurd attitude and, he said to himself hopefully, even to convince him to sleep on the bed and not on the floor.

“It was Miklan who had thrown you into the well... you weren't there by chance,” Felix pointed out a few moments later. His voice was nervous and even a little shaky - surely because of his still wet hair which, without a shadow of a doubt, was making him freeze - but at least he responded.

Sylvain refrained from commenting on what he had noticed, and tried to stay on that neutral speech. “Yeah... and I also remember that you found me,” he added with a hint of nostalgia.

He didn’t miss his brother nor his attempts to kill him, but Sylvain felt a lot of melancholy thinking about the lightness with which he was able to face everything. Moreover, he could spend hours and hours with Felix playing or talking about everything, because in those days they had no secrets from each other.

“I thought you were dead,” revealed Felix, his voice had taken a distant note, a sign that he was seriously thinking about that misadventure. “You were missing for hours, and the sun was starting to set…”

“But you were stubborn and you kept looking for me... and you saved me,” he turned on his side, in order to have a better look at his best friend. “Like so many other times.”

“You’re always a reckless idiot,” commented Felix, eliciting a low laugh from Sylvain. That insult, from his point of view, was a good thing.

“I know. I know! You told me several times, even that time I broke my leg trying to ride my dad's stallion.”

“I remember it,” confirmed the other, raising his head. His voice still trembled a little, but Sylvain still saw a small smile peek out of his cold-chapped lips.

“I don't know how you did it, but you convinced your father to let you stay in my house for all my recovery,” continued Sylvain, giggling again when he heard Felix himself emit an amused snort.

“It was Glenn who convinced my father,” he revealed. “He pointed out that I would be utterly unbearable if he didn’t agree to my request.”

Sylvain was stunned for a moment, surprised that Felix had named his brother so lightly. Felix wasn't used to talking about Glenn without feeling anger or pain, but evidently that must have been a really good memory for making him react that way - or, Sylvain told himself, Rodrigue's death must have touched him so much that he started to see the disappearance of his brother from another point of view.

He quickly recovered from that moment of disorientation and tried, with a light and skeptical tone, to respond to the statement of his best friend. “Glenn? He used precisely those words?”

He remembered Felix's older brother perfectly and certainly he would never use words like: ' _ utterly unbearable' _ .

“He said  _ ‘Felix will be a fucking pain in the ass if you don't do what he says’, _ ” admitted Felix. His voice, at that point, sounded amused even if imbued with a hint of nostalgia and sadness.

Sylvain in turn allowed himself another low laugh, trying to find a suitable answer to what Felix said. It would have been easy to joke and confirm what Glenn had said at the time to allow his little brother to stay next to his injured friend, but something stopped him from speaking. He'd been lucky to inadvertently find a pleasant memory of Glenn, something that didn't irritate Felix, but did he really want to continue on that path? Or was it too risky?

Silence had fallen again, but unlike the first time it was Felix who broke it with a serious and unusual tone, something that Sylvain was unable to identify at the moment... also because he was too busy trying not to react in a strange way in front of the question: “Is it true that you will get married as soon as the war is over?”

He gasped for a moment then let out a simple, confused: “E-excuse me?!”

What Felix just asked him was an atypical question, because his best friend always avoided meddling in the personal affairs of others. As a result, Sylvain just didn't know how to interpret that absurdly targeted and intimate question, and last but not least he didn't even know where that idea actually came from.

“Your father. He sent you an... engagement proposal in his last letter.”

The words seemed to come out of Felix's mouth with difficulty, and Sylvain couldn't help but recall the very letter his father had sent him a few days earlier. It mainly contained the request for help with the problems with the Sreng, but there was also a small part concerning the health of his mother - who fortunately had recovered from a bad seasonal illness - followed, in the end, by the name of a girl from a good family that would have been, to quote the Margrave:  _ an excellent match for starting a family at the end of the war.  _ For his father it was all a question of wealth and Crest, and obviously that wasn't the first proposal of that kind, and it wouldn't be the last.

“You showed me your father's request…” resumed Felix a few moments later, trying to explain what, in fact, seemed a violation of privacy.

Sylvain remembered that detail. It was he himself who had put the letter into Felix's hands to show him his father's appeal, and thanks to that detail he seemed to have found the answer he was looking for regarding the attitude of his best friend.

He didn't really care that Felix had read the rest of the letter as well - after all, the contents weren’t a personal secret -, what had just become really significant was the period of time: it matched perfectly the moment when Felix started acting weird toward him. “I rejected that proposal, like all the others,” he answered, sitting up on the bed to be able to face his best friend.

The warm light from the fireplace illuminated both of them and Sylvain immediately noticed the growing discomfort on Felix's face; the look was enough to push the latter to lower his head as if to hide, embarrassed.

It was almost tender, and Sylvain couldn't help but smile. “Felix... I will not marry a girl chosen by my father.”

He spoke again with sweetness and sincerity, with a heart full of emotion, divided between so many uncertainties and as many questions that, at any moment, only held a single answer.

Felix had behaved in that absurd and inexplicable way because he was  _ jealous _ . In the past, Sylvain had often joked about his best friend's hypothetical attachment to him - especially when Felix got mad about his numerous dates - but until now he had never dared hope it could be true. But, on the other hand, why would Felix have taken it to such an extent for an alleged marriage? An  _ 'uninterested'  _ person should have been happy since, finally, Sylvain would have put his head in place, but he wasn't and  _ Felix was jealous. _

There were no other explanations and, at that point, Sylvain knew he could no longer pull back, despite the fear of being mistaken. When the other didn’t answer, he got up to be able to reach him. He needed to be close to him so that his words entered as deeply as possible in Felix's head.

A few steps and he was in front of him, and without saying anything he crouched on the ground, resting both hands on Felix's knees to have some sort of physical contact with him.

His best friend remained motionless and silent despite everything, except for a slight tremor - Sylvain didn't know whether to connect it to the cold or something else.

He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Felix's knee a little tighter. “I could never,” he went on seriously, deciding that he would speak with his  [ heart on his sleeve ](https://context.reverso.net/traduzione/inglese-italiano/heart+on+his+sleeve) . “Even if you claim that I am superficial, disgusting and an idiot... I would never be able to marry someone I don't love and who only wants to be with me for my Crest.”

“Sylvain…”

“No, let me finish,” Sylvain interrupted, trying to hold on to that pinch of courage that he needed to utter a simple sentence that, perhaps, he should have said long ago. “There is only one person with whom I could stay until death, and you know very well that it’s you.”

A few months earlier he had felt a kind of relief mixed with joy to find that Felix remembered their childhood promise. It was precisely that discovery that prompted him to hope that they could take their relationship to another level. For that reason Sylvain had started training with him and snubbing all the appointments he might have had at the Monastery. He had forced himself to become a person to be proud of himself, someone who no longer felt embarrassed to say he was in love with his best friend.

In those months, looking in the mirror no longer made him feel dirty and a victim of his family's desires, because the person he saw reflected was the one who had finally decided that Felix was his only priority.

He smiled, and with equal sweetness reached out to touch his wet bangs. Felix's face was still frowning but also embarrassed, given the very red tips of his ears.

“Apparently, this time I'm not the idiot,” he commented, trying to ease the tension of that moment, as important as it was to both of them.

“So it seems…” admitted Felix with a little effort.

“Furthermore, far from me being sappy, our ' _ stick together until death' _ already seemed to me a marriage promise. I could never accept another one,” added Sylvain, managing to make the other smile too.

“But that never stopped you from going out with all those girls,” Felix accused him in response, but without appearing really angry -just jealous, how did he not realize it before and take it all for a joke? Meanwhile, Felix seemed to have lifted a weight from his shoulders, his face more relaxed, almost younger.

“I thought I had no hope with you,” admitted Sylvain. “I also thought I really had to follow my father's wishes. But I don't care anymore. He can disinherit me as he did with Miklan, I will be happy with you.”

“Are you sure?” asked Felix. His eyes were serious, and even though they already knew the answer, it was clear that he wanted to hear it from Sylvain.

“Quite sure... because I love you, even if you prefer to sleep on the floor, with wet hair and the risk of getting who knows what illness,” he laughed, getting to his feet and holding out his hand to the other.

Not that he considered his declaration of love unimportant, but just being able to pronounce it had made him explode in a happiness that he didn’t believe could exist. Felix himself, albeit with more discretion, seemed to let himself be infected and gave him a shy smile.

“I still have time to change my mind and accept your invitation,” he murmured, finally accepting Sylvain's hand.

Once on his feet, Sylvain drew him into his arms, burying his face into Felix's damp neck, a hug that the latter, despite having initially stiffened due to that sudden but not unexpected display of affection, returned shyly.

They stood still for a few moments then Sylvain spoke again, pulling his head a little away to be able to look Felix in the face. “Now I would love to kiss you,” he murmured. “But you haven't told me the  _ magic words  _ yet.”

Felix snorted from his nose and, lifting a little to bring his lips closer to Sylvain's, muttered a low but sweet: “You're an idiot.  _ My idiot _ .”

They weren't the words Sylvain wanted to hear, but when their mouths finally joined in an awkward but sweet kiss, he told himself that everything else could wait; he had just gotten what he’d wanted all his life.


End file.
